


An Android Named Alex

by tangerinespock



Category: Original Work, Star Trek
Genre: Android, Angst, Asexual Character, Cat, Confusion, Denial, Father-Son Relationship, Feelings, Gen, Identity, Khadra - Freeform, Log Entries, Nonbinary Character, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Science Officer, finding self, identity crisis, insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinespock/pseuds/tangerinespock
Summary: These are the personal log entries of Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi, from stardate 56548.7 to stardate 56564.2. It's angst all over, with a lot of internal conflict, appearances by an Egyptian Mau called Khadra and Alexander's dad, Dr. Abdelrahman Al-Mahdi.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes to fix. Feedback is very much appreciated!

_ Stardate 56548.7, Earth Year 2401, Personal Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

I was awoken today by the incessant purrs of the Earth feline animal known as a Felis catus, or as the Humans call them “cats”. The specific cat in question is an Egyptian Mau, which we had acquired a few days prior (Stardate 56545.3) during my scientific trip to Altera Four with Dr. Abdelrahman Al-Mahdi.

Dr. Mahdi had found the fragile creature on his way to the Alterian Academy on a particularly cold day, and when I inquired as to why he taken her in with him, he simply shrugged his shoulders[1] and replied that he could not bring himself to leave it on the streets to – and I quote - _freeze her tiny butt off_. I did not quite understand the colorful idiom that the aging doctor had used. However, a quick search on the universal database showed that he did not literally mean that the feline was in danger of having its buttocks frozen, but rather that it would not be capable of surviving the frosty weather that the White Planet was known for.

That day, I strangely found myself distracted by the small life form and its activities. Watching the clearly malnourished cat snuggle closer to the doctor whilst he fed her from the replicator’s finest “cat food”, I could not help but notice how attached it was becoming to the doctor and him to her. The man had forgone all else in favor of mothering the little thing, practically disregarding that day’s packed schedule of rigorous research and essential experiments needed in order to find a proper vaccine against the local equivalent of the Humanoid Chicken Pox. I hypothesized then, as it fell asleep on his shoulders, that this grey-spotted cat would not be parted from the doctor any time soon.

Later in the day, the kind doctor insisted that I join him and Khadra[2] at his temporary residence near the planet’ main energy depository. My attempts at refusing his offer were met with a careless wave and a firm look from under his glasses. It seemed like any resistance was futile; not even my usual argument of “I am not in need of rest, sir. It would be logical for me to remain here and resume our work while you rest. Since I have no need of it, it would seem rather wasteful to seek something which could not possibly benefit anyone,” worked.

I am not sure why, but it would appear that Dr. Al-Mahdi was attempting to spend more time with me. He seems to cherish our time together far more than usual, even going as far as telling me so as we walked back to his home – Khadra still resting peacefully in his arms. I mentioned this to Lieutenant Baudelaire when we returned back to Earth. She assured me that it is not so unusual for a man of his age to “grow soft”[3] in his later years, nor is it peculiar for a creator to feel some attachment towards their creation especially when said creation is as close to being sentient as I am.[4]

I do admit that I’m not entirely opposed to the doctor’s increasing sentiments towards me, as confusing as they are to me. Perhaps it is precisely because he is my creator, the person who effectively “brought me to life” and thus I naturally view him as a parental figure of sort, a father if I may. I would not mind calling him that (either directly to him or solely in my logs), however I fear that I might be overstepping my boundaries. Surely no Human of sound heart and mind would think to take on an android as a protégé, let alone regard one as family, as a son.

Yet since the date of my activation and my subsequent integration into Federation Society, the ninety-one year old doctor has generously granted me use of his surname as my own in spite of the various warnings offered by his own extended family as well as his scientific accomplices, who had feared I would not be worthy of such well-renowned and universally respected name. Additionally, my first name has often been a topic of controversy seeing as Dr. Al-Mahdi had also allegedly named me after his lost love of fifty years: a now off-world rebel once prosecuted and sanctioned for blatantly defying the Society by violating Handbook rule number 4.[5]

According to the idle gossip I had overheard during recreation hour on Stardate 56492.13 (and had deliberately kept out of that day’s logs for what I have come to identify as the Human emotion called shame), my namesake was hereby sentenced to exile and all their communications with Federation Society members were to be severed. If caught within Society parameters or in contact with anyone within them, they and any other party involved would be faced with “a fate worse than death”. Ayleen[6], having been there with me, was quick to assure me when I inquired that such talk was highly likely the product of the accumulating rumors surrounding the brilliant doctor. Hearsay, she described them, to fill in the gaps as to why the Human, once regarded by his mentors as a prodigy destined for unspeakable greatness, has lived all these long decades alone.

She did not elaborate further, as though it is “better left unsaid” that, despite the fact Dr. Al-Mahdi had undoubtedly lived up to his promise, it is no secret that the doctor had been held back. Some say it was because of his imaginary love, others seem more content placing blame on me, or more precisely on his need to perfect me in a way none else could understand. For even now, I am not by any means considered close to any measure of Humanoid idealism. I do not fit the description of a Greek Adonis nor am I the spitting image of a royal Yusuf. I am not nearly as gregarious as Ayleen and I (hopefully) could never be as brazen my sculptor. I am an android, calculating and unfeeling, body molded out of recycled metal and positronic neural pathways wrapped up in copper wire. I was created to serve my creator, to aid him in his scientific endeavors and no more. I am merely a tool, far from a truly sentient being as could be, far from perfection and unworthy of any fatherly affections that Dr. Al-Mahdi might harbor for me. He deserves a Human son, of flesh and bone, of soul and heart, of feeling.[7] ~~~~

Oh. I am afraid I must depart now. The doctor and I are expected at Science Facility 072 to report the findings of our investigation on Altera Four. I expect I shall be able to continue my log at the time my return at approximately 2100 hours. I dare not stay there any later than that as the grey Mau would grow even more restless by then.[8]

Speaking of Khadra, she is currently chewing on one of my standard issue uniforms, and I am afraid it is beyond my ability to rescue the fabric. When I had informed the doctor of my predicament earlier this week after having lost a significant amount of clothing, he had laughed so openly – in a way I had never seen him do before. Theoretically, if I were Human, I would be inclined to classify the sound of his laughter as fond and the sight of his smile as he patted the back of my shoulder as warm.

Alexander out.

[1] A gesture I have come to understand as a substitute for the Human standard “I do not know” or “It was not a big deal” or “It is what it is”

[2] Khadra orخضرا is Egyptian Arabic for the Standard word (Green). Dr. Al Mahdi started calling the earthling cat that after its wide green eyes, which he aptly described as irresistible. Despite my failure to understand the logic behind that particular sentiment, I found myself agreeing with him. It was indeed impossible to refuse the feline anything.

[3] “Grow soft” is a 20th century Earth originated phrase that suggests a person has become more lenient.

[4] Her exact wording was “ _He must have a soft spot for you. You guys are family, at least by Human standards. I mean, he is technically your dad and you’re like the son he’s never had. Internal Android angst aside, you’ve got to know that this means something to him, right?”_

[5] Handbook rule number 4 states: Federation Officers are prohibited from disclosing any sensitive Federation intelligence or information with non-Federation personal. Federation officers should not seek information beyond their own station. Any attempt to access restricted information is prohibited, and if caught attempting to do so, the offending officer will face dire consequences including, but not limited to, expulsion, banishment and death if necessary.

[6] Lieutenant Baudelaire has threatened to not speak with me once more had I persisted in calling her by her rank and family name. I admit it would be unpleasant to have to endure lunch breaks without her and her sometimes crass sense of humor (I have been informed by Dr. Al-Mahdi that I should refrain from retelling them amongst polite company).

[7] ~~At times, I wish I were one, if only to show the doctor that I am grateful for all that he has done for me.~~

[8] The universal database strongly advises Egyptian Mau owners to engage their domestic cat as frequently as possible as they are extremely active. They also prefer to gain complete control of their environment, hence their outstanding climbing and jumping abilities which enable them to sit and perch on top of high-standing furniture, like bookcases (an old furniture piece of Earth origin once used by Humans to store physical copies of books), in order to survey surroundings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes to fix. Feedback is very much appreciated!

_ Stardate 56548.23, Earth Year 2401, Personal Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

I have arrived at ~~the Al-Mahdi residence~~ home[1] later than I had anticipated. The doctor is with me, but he is unwell. I also find myself at an unprecedented inability to function at a full capacity. Current Expected Efficiency is down to sixty-two (62) percent. I have run a full exhaustive diagnostic on all levels yet I am unable to locate the source of my current predicament. Moreover, due to insufficient data on what is triggering the malfunctions, I am unable to understand what else that I am expected to perform.

As perplexed Human younglings do when faced with obstacles beyond their comprehension, I appear to not know what to do. Still, unlike them, my sole parent currently cannot come to my aid. He is ailed and I cannot run to his side and tug on his sleeve like Ayleen’s Francois did whenever he felt a pang of hunger or a shadow of thirst.

I am reminded that it was only an Earth year ago when I had observed in puzzlement as the then four year old child wept and wept and wept for his mother just because he had fallen and scraped his knees. He kept at it until I returned him to her in sickbay where she was working. I had seen the comfort the boy had felt as soon as he was in his Maman’s arms, almost as if all pain had been eased and all the hurt had been forgotten by a mere hug.

Now, I wish I could weep as ferociously as he did if it would bring me solace or alleviate whatever it is that has me this way. I do not understand it. I do not understand anything. I am unable to detect malfunctions but there has to be a logical explanation. I do not understand. All I am certain of is that the doctor is ill and I am helpless to cure him as well.

We had been presenting our findings to the board as planned, exploring the different vaccine plans the doctor and I had developed on the alien planet and recounting in intricate detail all the discoveries we had made throughout our stay, including the new species of Kalorean insects.[2] Unfortunately, near the end of our meeting with our Federation superiors at the facility, the doctor seemed to be overcome with fatigue and he almost collapsed onto the floor had I not been programmed with enhanced speed and agility.

A quick scan then and there showed nothing but shortness of breath, an elevated heart rate and an equally rising temperature. It was possible that the doctor was suffering from his usual space flight illness, but that was ruled out by Dr. Jyndh’s more conclusive medical exam just 1.42 minutes later in the emergency sickbay. Their examination showed that Dr. Al-Mahdi is suffering from a Thoracic aortic aneurysm, a common enough diagnosis for a Human in the doctor’s age group, a trivial one at that. It appears the symptoms have only recently presented due to a sudden tear in one of the artery’s walls. Dr. Jyndh could effortlessly rid the senior of it without a trace owing to the advancement of twenty-fifth (25th) century medicine and technology, but the doctor has refused treatment. He has chosen to receive a temporary fix for the rupture instead of a permanent replacement, which is a decision I do not support nor do I understand. He has also opted to ingest small doses of pain-nullifying analgesic to numb his neural receptors instead of the more effective Anodynon.[3]

Again, I do not understand why he is eager to condemn himself to an early death... Why is he determined to suffer needlessly, to endure such agony without reason, without cause? What could possibly incite such illogical behavior in the doctor and allow such irrationality to transpire within him? I do not understand and I do not wish to understand. I only wish for him to adhere to reason, to allow Dr. Jyndh to perform the minor surgery.

Current Expected Efficiency down to fifty-four (54) percent. It would seem I am in distress. I do not understand. I wish I could understand.

Alexander out.

[1] Dr. Al-Mahdi has expressed his desire for me to “see it as home” an estimated number of 5.8 times per day. He says that the quaint twenty-third (23rd) century house is as much mine as it is his. I have been endeavoring to respect his wishes, but I find it somewhat troubling how natural it has become for me to think of it as ours and not only his.

[2] Kalorean insects are close in shape and size to the Earth insects called Ants but, unlike Ants, they do not live in colonies.

[3] Analgesic pills were once the most widely spread form of the Humanoid “pain killer” throughout the 21st and 22nd century, before the invention of the Federation’s Anodynon by half-Human and half-Vulcan scientist and linguist T’lyun Bryne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to the end! Please drop a line in the comment section, would love to have any feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes to fix. Feedback is very much appreciated!

_ Stardate 56551.9, Earth Year 2401, Personal Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

I have been at the doctor’s side for the past two days. It was uneventful.

After completing my previous log and before departing to Medical Facility 021 where the doctor was transferred to soon after his condition was stabilized, I had left nourishment for Khadra to last her an entire week. Nonetheless, I find myself back at home at the doctor’s request, in an attempt to keep her company for a few hours. I daresay his true intentions were for me to “get some rest” as though I was capable of such action. Having concealed my own inexplicable problem from him – albeit not intentionally, I felt that I ought to indulge Dr. Al-Mahdi for the time being.

Khadra was hiding when I came searching for her; she had settled lazily on top of the doctor’s wooden wardrobe, an antique he had inherited from his parents, one that was passed from one generation to the other. _“An atypical family heirloom,”_ Dr. Al-Mahdi had called it when I drew attention to the oddity of such item amidst the sleek modernity of his quarters – though it is befitting of the house’s general ambiance. _“A charming old thing from my great-grandparents’ hometown Damietta, the last reminder of our Egyptian roots that are otherwise forgotten. I’ve always felt like it’s my only claim to this part of my identity, which is something, well, sad to say the least. I’ve sort of come to terms with it, the whole “reminiscing about a past that isn’t really mine” thing.”_

 _“I mean, yes, I can speak in my ancestors’ tongue and I could list about a bazillion random fact about them: what their culture was like, what their food tasted of, how colorful their traditional dress was… So many aspects of their existence resides within my own and yet I am still somehow detached from it as much as I am attached to it.”_ The doctor paused for 4.1 seconds, a hand carding through unkempt hair, then he continued in a slightly lighter tone than before: _“It doesn’t make much sense, I know. Most Humans wouldn’t understand it either, but I have a feeling you someday might. Or not. No pressure. You’re still so young, so unaware, even for an all-knowing Android, even for one that’s ours.”_

He did not clarify what he had meant by that last sentence, and I had sensed that he would rather I not comment on it. It might have been the softness of his voice whilst he spoke, or the glazed look in his eyes. I simply recall him, the wardrobe, and I standing there in utter silence until the doctor urged me to return to my own quarters. _“Just let an old man rest, huh?”_ He had chuckled, gesturing to the door after I pointed out the unnecessity of having rooms assigned to me. _“You’ll need some privacy soon enough, kiddo. Don’t rush into dismissing your needs like that. Now, run along, make use of the library if you get bored, but I’d rather you bother Lieutenant Baudelaire with some of your creative inquires. Go on then, it’s too late for my bones to be moving about. Goodnight, my dear Alexander. Have a wonderful time being annoyingly curious, I’m sure Ayleen will love it! **[1]**”_

That was 4.3 Earth years ago, only a month after my genesis. It was my first time to be allowed entry to a place other than the lab where I was assembled. I was awfully naïve in a way I have only come to recognize with the passage of time. I was pure, marvelously childlike… unburdened by the realities of humanity and the fickleness of Humans and their fragility as opposed to my own frigid longevity.

It was a long time ago.

Presently, or 10 minutes ago to be precise, I had attempted to tempt Khadra from her position using her favorite toy: a fishing pole. She grabbed the bait, jumped from her semblance of a summit to catch the poor-looking ball at the end of the rod, and then she kept on following it until she either grew tired or lost interest. I would say “temptation accomplished” as Dr. Al-Mahdi would say in this situation, since the tabby feline now occupies the space on my lap and seems utterly delighted to have me brush her light fur. I have reason to believe she misses her Human rescuer for she cuddles closer to me than usual, soft whines escaping from the tip of her tiny tongue, vivid green eyes staring longingly at the doctor’s unmade bed from when he was last here.

_“He shall be back soon, Khadra. Do not worry. Do not fret. I shall do everything in my capability to convince him to come back here, to you and me. We cannot lose him, I know. Do not worry.”_

Oh, Alexander out.

[1] Ayleen has since denied ever enjoying my company at that hour, or having to reply to my questions. She has asserted several times that she finds “no pleasure whatsoever in explaining the most basic of things to a walking encyclopedia” and that it is “annoying” that I keep asking about why Commander Yuen Jang becomes 31% inefficient whenever she is in the same room. In addition, she refused to comment on my initial hypothesis that he was intimidated by her. When that hypothesis was found to be null – owing to the brief conversation I had with the Commander which resulted in him inviting her to dinner, she continued to be evade any of my queries about her own decreased efficiency. I was forced to resort to little Francois who was not helpful either, largely because he was 11 months old and could only enunciate “Maman!” correctly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to the end! Please drop a line in the comment section, would love to have any feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

_ Stardate 56553.18, Earth Year 2401, Personal Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

I am recording my log at Medical Facility 021, section 4, room 623.

Dr. Al-Mahdi is asleep nearby, dozed on the Oxycodone he had been given earlier. He still refuses to seek proper treatment, treatment that would not endanger his life. Treatment that would allow him to stay with us longer, permit him a new lease on a full, healthy life. Yet he is adamant that he should be able to do as he pleases, that he wishes to “just let it be”.

As stated in my previous logs, I do not share the same outlook on his choices or his attitude regarding this matter. I think it foolish, selfish and wholly avoidable. Alas, the doctor and I have thoroughly debated it but to no avail. He wishes to die and I am helpless to refuse him. He wishes to die and I wish that he would not. He wishes to die and so now we await death.

I find that I do not, or rather cannot, rejoice in such a thing when it is not logical. I cannot “make my peace with it” either when it is him. He is all I know. He is my creator. What should a creation do when it is abandoned by its creator? What should Humans do when they are foreskin by their gods? Am I to act out the role of monster to my Dr. Frankenstein?[1] Am I expected to continue to pretend that I am not affected by the circumstances at hand? Should I not acknowledge the “malfunction” warnings I am swarmed with just by attempting to consider a future I do not share with him?

It is becoming difficult to ignore the reality of the situation in favor of the more comforting falsehood of the supposed nature of my being. I can no longer conceal the extent of my sentience or the gravity of my ensued feelings. I feel, and I feel so sharply, so intensely that I am led to believe I am rendered powerless, incapable of functioning because of it. I do not wish to be so. I do not wish to be Human if all it encompasses is this overwhelmingness. Admittance has done nothing to lessen the torture of feeling, confession has not erased the sin. I am –

_“Alexander,”_

_“Yes, Doctor, I am here.”_

_“Come closer, will you? I can’t see you from over here.”_

_“Yes, Doctor.”_

_“Can you stop with the ‘yes, doctor’ thing? You sound like a parrot.”_

_“Of course, doc- I apologize. Do you require anything? Lieutenant Baudelaire came by while you were resting but she did not wish to disturb you. She has brought over a miniature replicator in case we needed something during our stay. I can replicate anything that you would like, sir.”_

_“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of Ayleen to do. Thank her for me next time you see her, she just saved me from having that disgusting Delurion yogurt again. I swear it’s the most god-awful thing I’ve ever tasted. Absolute abomination. No wonder no one likes coming to these facilities. Everyone would rather stay home and get sub-par treatment there than suffer the hospital food. Can’t say I disagree with them.”_

_“Would you like me to replicate Plomeek Soup for you, sir? If I am not mistaken, that is your preferred form of nourishment when recovering from mild infections. **[2]**”_

_“Yes, sure. There’s not much difference between this and the common cold anyway, both as irritating as hell. Gosh, yes, that smells good.”_

_“There you go, sir. Careful, sir.”_

_“Ya Allah, stop with the doctors and the sirs, will you? I am supposed to be dying, you do know that right? You can afford to call me something else. You can afford to grant a silly wish to a silly old man.”_

_“I do not understand…how would you have me address you?”_

_“I was thinking something along the lines of, well umm, I don’t know. It’s just, you’re sort of like a son to me, yeah? Obviously not, you know, biologically, but you’re the closest thing. Shit– I mean, you are. My son. Cause if you ask me, biology is overrated. And I realize how weird that is coming from a doctor but it’s kind of true. Yes, that’s it, biology be damned! You’re my son. You’re my son and I want you to know that. I don’t care if you think you can’t be that just because you’re brain is– is wired differently or because your blood is freaking blue. Goddamn it, this cough— I want you to know that you’re my son – and I am proud that you are. You’re more than we ever thought possible. You’re ours.”_

_“Ours?”_

_“Oh, don’t sound so surprised. It’s not like it is some secret. You’ve must’ve seen or heard something over the past five years. I didn’t – I didn’t exactly try to hide anything and I am pretty sure I gave you a ‘better than Sherlock Holmes’ deduction set of skills. I’d be sorely disappointed in myself if you haven’t.”_

_“I have, sir. It was fairly hard not to. **[3]**” _

_“Yeah, figured as much. I am too much of a sentimental fool, aren’t I?”_

_“I would not know, sir. It is my observation that majority of Humans suffer the same disposition.”_

_“Haven’t I just told you to stop calling me that? Are you rebelling now? Is this your Android equivalent of being a rowdy teenager? Because I have to be honest with you, it does leave – something to be desired.”_

_“I dare not, sir. I have previously noted your dislike of all Humanoids aged eleven to twenty-one. It is just that you have not provided me with an alternative.”_

_“Oh, right. I suppose I should but I just don’t want to overwhelm you.”_

_“I already am, doctor, quite so. I would not be, however, had you consented to undergo the harmless surgery Dr. Jyndh has generously volunteered to perform.”_

_“No, no, no. I won’t have this talk with you again. My decision is final. It is my body, my soul to squander as I please. There is no use argu—arguing.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“Huh, that was easy. Too easy. Is this some ploy to trick me? Didn’t peg you for a Brutus, Alex.”_

_“No ploy, doctor. I am merely too much aware of the inevitability of a deadlock to want to initiate an argument. You are insusceptible to logic, your mind impenetrable by reason if it does not concur with your selected narrative. You are, as one might say, stubborn…”_

_“Stubborn? Sure, you can look at it that way.”_

_“Indeed, I can, doctor.”_

_“Enough with the doctor, ya ellahy, just call me whatever people call parents nowadays!”_

_“You wish to be called ‘legal custodian’?”_

_“Are you being deliberately annoying right now? S—seriously?”_

_“I am not, but I am serious. Do you wish me to call you that?”_

_“No—I wish you’d call me dad!”_

_“Oh.”_

_“You don’t have to! I mean, I’d like it if you do but it’s alright if you’re not comfortable. Heck, I myself stopped calling my father that once I turned thirteen. So, no pressure.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Good. Better finish up this Plomeek soup then. Can’t have it go to waste, can we?”_

_“It is not preferable, no.”_

_“Glad you agree.”_

_…_

_“Is there anything else I can do for you?”_

_“No, son, I think I’ll call it a night. I tire too quickly these days.”_

_“Understandable. I’ll wake you in time for Fajr as you have asked.”_

_“Ahh, yes—thank you, Alexander. Don’t know what I’d do or be without you, kiddo.”_

_“The same in all likeliness, I presume.”_

_“Maybe… I suppose we ought to bid each other a goodnight”_

_“You are in need of rest.”_

_“I am. I think you are too, but I doubt you’d admit that._ _Please_ _try to disconnect a little, even so-called machines need a break.”_

_“I shall try.”_

_“I suppose that’s good enough for me. Goodnight, Alex.”_

_“Goodnight, Dad.”_

_…_

Current Expected Efficiency is stable at eighty (80%) percent.[4]

_…_

Computer, delete log.

[1] Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is a 19th century Earth novel written by English author Mary Shelley that tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a sapient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment. Reading the novel was not very rewarding in my experience. I found the Dr. Frankenstein to be cruel, and I dislike cruelty.

[2] The doctor has demonstrated this preference during each of the three periods of infection he has weathered through during the past five Earth years.

[3] It was. It was hard to ignore the Federation standard desk in the doctor’s quarters, overflowing with framed photographs of him with his parents, with his friends, and with me. No one issued analog photographs anymore, except the doctor who insists on using a twentieth (20th) century camera and, without exception, has two copies of every photo made. A copy for his desk and another that vanished a week or so later. Even without the swirling rumors and the disappearing images, there was no explanation for the handwritten letters making their way through Federation spaces, to and from home. As erratic and sparsely-timed as they were, they seemed to anchor the doctor against his own self-unforgiving temperament as well as his relentless ability to “lose himself” within his work. It was a consistently relieving sight to watch the tension ease from the doctor’s shoulders as he receives news of a letter’s arrival, and it was even more so to witness his own relief as I finally deliver a letter to him after tracking down its messenger – a Cardassian explorer called Nvvyek. Those letters were incased in coarse brown envelopes, signed ‘For my A.’ each time without fail. 

[4] I do not know how or why, and if I did, I do not think I am capable of understanding it.


	5. Chapter 5

_ Stardate 56560.11, Earth Year 2401, Personal Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

My father, Dr. Abdelrahman Al-Mahdi, has died yesterday at approximately 2148 hours. I have since been occupied with his burial and funeral arrangements. He had specifically requested that he be given a traditional Muslim burial – a peculiar choice considering the vagueness of his public stance on religion[1] as well as the rarity of anyone discarding the offer of an official Federation Burial Ceremony.[2]

 _“There’s just something so poetic to me about being wrapped in a white cotton cloth then being put back into the earth,”_ The doctor had explained to me on his fourth day at the medical facility. _“It’s almost a full-cycle of sorts, if you think about it. Our mothers bear us, birth us, and they put us into tiny swaddling blankets barely a hundred centimeters long. Even with our first breaths, we are held out in anticipation, held prepared for the world to gawk and probe at as it fancies. Soon after, we grow out from existing as mere larvae and we —we blossom into something bigger, complex and truly living. A hundred or so years later, we find ourselves bathed by our loved ones, shrouded in our Kafan **[3]**, and lowered gently until we are one with the same dirt we were once molded from.” _

Pausing for 6.2 seconds, he finished off his commentary with a distant stare at the room’s sole window: _“I’d like that, the whole ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and earth to earth’ thing. I think I’d rather go like that than have to suffer the infinite abyss the Society has so graciously graced me with. I have no use of space when I’m dead and space would have no use for me. Tradition suits me better, anyways. Yeah, I think I’d like the whole old-fashioned Janazah **[4]**… Plus, I have you to make sure they don’t mess up the technicalities, right? You’d go nuts if everything didn’t go according to tradition, irk —irks you when stuff goes wrong, huh? Well, that makes two of us, dear Alex.”_

 _“You are nothing of the sort, Father. You bask in chaos, except perhaps when your patients are involved.”_ I had interjected _._

 _“Yeah, yeah, maybe – though I do admit I was even more unorthodox back in medical school, so much so that I had to be disciplined by the society a few times.”_ With a rough, quivering voice, he continued _. “We were quite the menaces then; self-proclaimed revolutionaries, they called us. It didn’t last for long. They had to leave. I – I had to stay. You know time just hadn’t been kind to us before you came along, before you became a tangible reality and not just a lost pillow talk fantasy of ours. Five years ago, you came to life and made everything better for us. I was alone but you changed that; you made an unbearable burden easier to bear. They’d given up hope by then, said I should forget or at least find it – find it in my heart to forgive. I couldn’t do either. I wanted them to know I could never. Then you finally came.”_

 _“You came and you gave us hope that – that it wasn’t all for nothing. You gave us a future, a tomorrow that once never existed except in hazy memories. You’ve changed everything. You gave us a son, our son.”_ He glanced back momentarily, trembling hands lifted as to point towards me, and chuckled. _“Now, I actually have someone, a next of kin, to bury me properly. Who would’ve thought?”_

…

I have fulfilled my father’s wishes as instructed. His burial was carried out earlier today at 0800 hours and was attended by all his friends and colleagues from Medical Facility 073. Ayleen was there as well, and had persisted in her questioning about my wellbeing despite my insistence that I am ‘okay’. I do not tell her that I am unsure about that answer, but it seems that she could sense that anyhow.

The funeral, or AlAzaa, is set for 1800 hours as it is common for Muslim funerals to be held after Maghreb prayers (just after sunset) and will take place at the city’s lone mosque. It is expected that more people would wish to offer me their condolences and pay their respects there, including Federation officials and esteemed members of its Society. I am prepared to do so as expected of me.

My father has left no formal will, but he has apparently transferred the ownership of his residence to me a year ago without my knowledge. I believe that I felt…relief…upon hearing this, for otherwise I would not be allowed to keep the house due to my Android nature.

I do not wish to lose my home to the Federation, or any other entity.

Alexander out.

[1] Father was not one of those keen on debating or discussing religion with a seemingly burning passion – publicly or privately — but he could have been easily identified or recognized as a (somewhat) practicing Muslim by those closest to him. He prayed his five salahts – though never as regularly as to have it be considered a daily occurrence, he fasted whenever he remembered to witness Ramadan, and he happened to have an aversion towards consuming pork meat – even if it was replicated.

[2] A Federation Burial Ceremony is a high honor typically bestowed on the Federation’s finest officers from each and every field of work or study. It consists of two phases: the first is launching the selected individual onto Federation Space inside a probe, the second phase is detonating that probe and thus allowing the individual’s remains to exist in the universe infinitely. Such ceremonies are a symbol of gratitude towards the individual who is considered by the society as a true pioneer and have only ever been declined by their recipients twice; once by Ambassador Yuipas – the Bajoran who initiated first contact with the Ranilians and successfully negotiated the terms of their treaty with the Federation, and, now, Doctor Abdelrahman Al-Mahdi. I find that I do not disagree with his choice to pass on this ceremony.

[3] Kafan is simple and modest white cotton cloth used by Muslims to wrap the corpses of their deceased in as a way of giving them dignity and respect.

[4] Janazah is the Arabic word for burial.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Stardate 56563.8, Earth Year 2401, Science Officer’s Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

I am recording this log to mark the submission of my resignation letter to the Chief Science Officer Dr. Kydrian Anderson at Science Facility 073. This is my final act as a Federation scientist.

Al-Mahdi out.


	7. Chapter 7

_ Stardate 56564.2, Earth Year 2401, Personal Log, Science Android Identification Number 1731, Given Name: Alexander Al-Mahdi _

We are officially outside Federation space. I have never been so far across the quadrant before, nor have I ever dared to imagine that I would be. I have also never been aboard a Cardassian ship before – they are quite different from the standard Federation Science vessels. The most obvious difference is the ship’s temperature, which appears to be substantially higher than what is suited for Human comfort. Consequently, I was forced to adjust my own internal temperature to compensate for the difference in heat and humidity.

It is of no bother to me at the moment, Khadra is the one struggling greatly. I have been confining her to my quarters, where I had tampered with the air-conditioning to accommodate her. She cannot venture outside, however, as she would get fatigued after only five minutes or so. She understandably does not like her current circumstances. I have assured her multiple times that this is only temporary until we reach our destination, which I am still not aware of.

As it is, the Cardassian Nvvyek has refused to disclose the specific location of my father’s mysterious letter correspondent. _“No hard feelings, Android,”_ Nvvyek had grunted one night as he wheeled his chair over to me with one hand, unknown beverage in the other. _“It’s just harder to track us if no one – even you, my impatient passenger – knows where we’re headed.”_ Halting momentarily to down the rest of his drink, which I eventually recognized as Kanar, he had resumed: _“Don’t need some Federation starship spotting us and giving us unwanted trouble now, do we?”_

Minor inconveniences aside, I...feel…indebted to Nvvyek for his help and for allowing me to board his vessel. It is not logical to feel so since I have paid his requested fee of three thousand Federation Credits, and yet I do. Without his assistance, I would have remained on Earth, as clueless as I had been after father’s funeral, trying to catch a clue or follow a thread that may or may not have lead me to my other parent and wherever they currently reside.

Father has left me no instructions as to what I should do after his death. His wishes, having informed me of them throughout his ten-day stay at Medical Facility 021, only referred to the burial and the funeral. Nothing else was even mentioned regarding me or my continued livelihood following those events. I had been uncertain of how I should proceed, with only the house and Khadra remaining a comforting constant – Dr. Anderson had given me an Earth week to “grief” as he put it so I was prevented from using work as a distraction. Ayleen was kind to visit before heading to the facility, which I very much appreciated. Little Francois was with her; he would stay with me, chasing after the fast feline and their loud presence kept me busy for the majority of the day.

At nighttime, I always thought of father, his letters and their sender. I still had no clue as to what is their identity or character beyond the small snippets father had let slip in his conversation. He had done that frequently those last days. As difficult as it must have been for Dad to just remember them, he never once mentioned them without an affectionate smile accompanied by this glazed but serene look. His whole demeanor at those moments seemed calmer than one might think possible for a Human – even Vulcans would appear agitated when compared to his own tranquil appearance whenever he spoke of them. It was, as Commander Jang once described Ayleen’s loud laughter from across the recreation room, such a warming sight to behold.

Oh, dear father. I feel as though I already miss you. It is hardly logical but I cannot ignore that I do.

Truthfully, the past few days have made it disturbingly clear that I am not very suited to change – sudden or otherwise. Ten days should have been enough to prepare me for a farewell, enough time for “saying goodbye” to father, but I find that preparation is not a guarantee for subsequent success. I did not even ask him all the questions I hold buried within me, nor did I get an explanation as to why he never spoke of this person, this –what I had deduced to be—my other parent. Or at least that was how father saw them.

I was as lost as I had ever been after the funeral was over. My then Current Expected Efficiency was down to forty-nine (49%) percent. I was distressed and for once I believe I knew why. I was, for the first time, alone. Alone, without my father. Dad.

I was suddenly an orphan, an orphan with a lost parent and another chronically absent one whom I do not even know the name of.

That is, until yesterday. This all changed yesterday, with a single, one-line letter.

Nvvyek had arrived at my door at the Al-Mahdi residence approximately 0652 hours – which was unusual now that I recall it. I informed him of my father’s death but he did not seem surprised to hear it.[1] He brought out a familiar faded-yellow envelope to give to me as though nothing had changed. When I reinstated that the doctor, my father, was no longer able to receive these letters, he had curled his lips in a smirk and replied: _“This one is for you, wide-eyed Android. Not everything is for your precious, dead doctor.”_

Leaving as quickly and as quietly as he had come, I stared behind him at the letter in my hands, signed by the customary ‘For my A.”

An hour or more had probably passed whilst I did so, I believe I was…afraid…of what the contents of that letter would reveal to me. Foolish, I know, even by Human standards. Nevertheless, I eventually did open the envelope, carefully unfolded the coarse paper to display just the one sentence.

_“I will wait for you, as I did for him.”_

I knew it was them. No other would be allowed to send anything through Nvvyek, let alone have the same ancient material to waste away for such short messages. I knew it was them. I could not let them wait as my father did, I could not let them do so when I longed as much as them to be reunited with family, to not feel so alone anymore. Perhaps it is naïve to think anyone could fill the absence of the doctor or even begin to compare to him. However, I find I did not care. I do not care. Only an un-seeing being would fail to see the importance this person held for my father, or the love he held for them. Surely father would only love those who are in his likeness: kind, patient and loving. Surely this other parent of mine is no less a graceful being as he was. Surely they would – surely they would love me as he did, if they were willing to wait for me as long as they did father. Even without actual hope of our return.

And I require answers. I need to know why, understand why my father was shrouded in secrets, why this parent resides off-world without even a name or face to recognize them with, and why I am kept in the dark.

I decided I would not let them wait. There was no justifiable reason for me to wait any longer. So I traced Nvvyek, asked for passage aboard his ship to wherever the sender is – he was once again not at all surprised. I submitted my resignation to Commander Anderson, sent a hologram to Ayleen since there was no time for me to “say my goodbyes”[2], and headed off to the ship’s location with Khadra in my arms and a small backpack with her food and toys. We do not need anything else.

I did not know what it was that I was feeling was at that time – possible emotional states included anxiety, unease or the obvious one: sadness. I know now that it was all of those combined together in one. It does not appear logical to me, but I believe it was so. Now, now there is a new added emotion to this bizarre mix of a cocktail. It is rather different than the others. It does not feel so…heavy. It feels light enough to flow over all other emotions. I do not understand it like all the others, but it is…nice.

I hope my other parent – whoever they may be—could help me identify it, just like father always did.

Alexander out.

[1] He consistently seemed unfazed by anything I told, but I did not believe it was uncharacteristic for a Cardassian to act so.

[2] She will be furious that I did so without a proper hug, but it is perhaps better this way. I trust that Commander Jang will take proper care of her and François

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it to the end! Please drop a line in the comment section, would love to have any feedback!


End file.
